The Worst
by RainKrystal
Summary: The British nation is unique in this respect. They are the only people who like to be told how bad things are, who like to be told the worst."- Winston Churchill. Trivia question!


**Diclaimer: **I don't own Hetalia. If I did, I'd be very rich indeed.

**Rating:** K+. I don't think I really need a real higher rating. Nothing here is explicit.

**Note:** Reviews are love, though contructive criticisms please, with names if you can. I got a reivew on A Timeline that I would have loved to ask questions about, but it was given anonymously, so alas.

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"Come on, England. We're going to be okay. Everything's fine. Everything's perfect." America lies to him as he supports the wounded Nation on his shoulder. England knows that America is trying to smile because_ 'he always does when things get bad.'_ America keeps up his stream of reassurances as they near the bunker, taking one step after another towards safety. "We're fine. The bunker's right there." England stumbles as another wave of bombs drops on London, a fresh spurt of blood begins to seep through his shirt. _'And I just changed those bandages, too.'_ England thinks dryly to himself. "Hey, we'll make it, just a few more steps, it's going to be okay, England."

It irritates him that America has been spending so much of his time trying to reassure him lately. England had been living with the Blitz for long enough before America had arrived, and it wasn't as if that had killed him then. America shouldn't be supporting him towards the bunker in England's backyard, he should be out in the streets, helping England's people while the elder Nation tends to his own wounds like he's done every time the bombs have fallen before this. England would have joined him once they stopped, and gone about the business of doing damage control across London, just like he had been doing since the raids had first started. Leave it to the bloody git to force him to go into the bunker like a good invalid and wait out the storm while he held his hand for him- Bollocks to that. England didn't need to be coddled, and certainly not by this American wanker.

Once they reach the bunker, England knows better than to protest as America removes England's shirt in order to get to the now re-opened wound over his heart. "Hey America, do me a favor." England spits through clenched teeth as the other Nation replaces the bandages on England's torso. America grunts affirmatively as he tightens the bandage, trying to staunch the blood flowing from England's chest. "Tell me how bad it is." The other Nation pauses in his ministrations. "What." America says flatly. England nods, and takes the bandage from the slightly dumbstruck America to continue dressing the wounds himself.

"You heard me." England tells the incredulous American; "I want to know how bad it is out there. Tell me how bad everything is." America grabs the bandages back from England, and ties them tightly off, and England will be damned if he lets himself wince. "Spare no details. I want you," he gestures to his ally with a jerk of his head, "to tell me," England pulls the bandage tight around his chest as he ties it off, finishing solidly; "that we're going to die." England looks America in the eyes and the American nods slowly in confirmation.

"We're doomed." He tells England dully. "London is going to be destroyed, and it's going to kill you." England stares at his ally. "Go on." He says encouragingly. America continues in a lazy monotone; "France is already dead; he's with the rest of our kind that died, and he's dancing with Joan, annoying the shit out of God." America tries hard not to smile as he continues to say blankly; "Once you're gone, Germany will seize your lands, and I'll dance on your ashes. And then you're going to be stuck with France, **forever."**

England snorts out a harsh burst of laughter a that last part, and says; "As if I'd die of something that that Kraut did to me; let alone spend eternity with the Frog." England pulls himself up and puts his military uniform back on over his bandages, pondering thoughtfully for a moment. "France might actually be gone though, if we're exceedingly lucky." America shakes his head. "Nah, he was in Morocco, last I heard." The younger Nation stands as well, continuing, "He's been hanging around all over Africa, since his bosses had him shipped out of Paris before it was taken. Now he's doing his version of politics, pretending to work with Germany in public while he calls himself 'Unoccupied France' and sets up an underground resistance movement, getting ready to shoot him in the back."

England shrugs indifferently at the news of his rival's adventures. "Too bad, then." He draws himself up to full height, ignoring the pain as the bombs continue to drop outside. "In any case," he informs the American, "I'm not simply going to wait around in here like an invalid while the Kraut stays poised to take my lands." America stares at England, as the elder Nation dusts himself off as though the fact that outside London is being bombed is no more painful than a mere paper cut. _'Hah.'_ England thinks. _'I showed him how a true Nation responds to pain.'_

"Come on," England declares grandly as he opens the door to the bunker. "We've got things to take care of. I didn't want you here, but since you came anyway, you're going to help put out the fires." England leads the way back into his city, and out of the corner of his eye he sees America shaking his head in disbelief. "Old man," He hears the other Nation tell him with a grin; "You are one crazy bastard." England laughs again, and rushes into the streets of London as fast as his feet will carry him. "Only just figuring that out now, are you?" He snarks at his ally. "You're a bloody genius, America; everyone else gets that bit within the first five minutes!" Laughing, America chases his ally out of the bunker and into the streets of England's damaged city.

"_The British nation is unique in this respect. They are the only people who like to be told how bad things are, who like to be told the worst."-_ Winston Churchill.

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**Historical Facts: **As far as the whole Unoccupied France thing goes, France got invaded by Germany and Italy during the war, prior to America's involvement. He was split into two zones, Occupied and Unoccupied France. Charles De Gualle became the notable Free French leader, while a government that became known as Vichy France was established by the Germans to be a pet government. Evenutally, Unoccupied France was invaded as part of Germany's Operation Torch. When I say Joan, I mean Joan of Arc.

**Trivia:** No one has answered the question at the end of Memories, so I'm not answering that one yet. The tirvia today is why I chose Morocco to be where France was. Both the answer to Memories's question and today's will be answered after a suitable period of time, so please take a guess if you like.


End file.
